


Your colors are bright, they're blinding me

by r_497385



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Dream is a dick what else is new, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I am still in denial, Implied Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Manipulation, Pain, Prison Arc, cellmates pog, mentions of the after life, multiple ressurections
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29851863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r_497385/pseuds/r_497385
Summary: Tommy is stuck in prison with Dream.He hasn't felt this worse since exile, and he doesn't know what to do.Sure, he's been dead, but the book was still in tact, and so was the colors staining his vision. The strings pulled him back. Over. And over. And over again.The colors around him grew dull, and he wonders if in time he'd lose his colors too.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Your colors are bright, they're blinding me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! new Fanfic since I wanna address Dream's brutality with colors! 
> 
> Well their feelings with colors as well.
> 
> Enjoy! This is pain btwwwww

_Squeeze_.

  
Then, there was just white clouding his vision. Green no longer invading his peripherals, completely replaced with the colourless speck of light.

  
Not that it was any better, but it was certainly...much more bearable to look at.

  
Something changes too by then, suddenly things were moving around him. Train tracks laid still, in front of him. A new setting he couldn't quite recognize anywhere the time he was alive.

  
Wait, when he _was_ alive?

A shake of the head was what brung him back. Or rather, the colour brown that's drawn his attention over. The colour is soft, a shade so familiar something spurs inside of his chest as the figure slowly approaches him.

Careful, very cautious. Something bitter sits in the back of his mind at that description, somehow. Was that look supposed to come with those soft shades of brown? Has it really been like that back then as well? 

  
Those brown orbs reflected deep, dark, blue. Telling him tales of horror, edged with deep sorrow growing each time the shade dips darker, whilst he smiles crookedly for a reason he has yet discovered.

  
Blue shifts to black, then it returns to it's previous light shade. It was colder, much more dull, though admittedly much more preferable to look at. 

Hints of red being the only colour disturbing his vision. _Crimson_. 

Red did not go well with brown.  
It never did and it never will. It shouldn't. 

  
The air grows tight, the next thing he knows, reality morphs into itself. A nice decent hue was colouring the background. Almost soothing.   
Inanimate objects never really did show their colours with enough depth. He couldn't decide whether it's a blessing or a curse.

  
Of course, everything was darker. But pleasantly so, he quickly found out.

A hand was wrapping itself around his. Guiding him. Perhaps the lack of colours he could see from this figure was the reason he let him lead the way.

Red was never meant for brown. Neither did blue, black, or grey too.   
He had a feeling those colours had mixed in the flurry of deep brown, so he let's the figure lead the way, words were a loss to him, although colours were not.

  
The hand stayed clasped around his the whole entire time they trudged....somewhere.  
Nothing really in his blank headspace, like a mindless duckling following its mother's trail faithfully despite all odds.  
Nothing could take his mind off of the darkly themed station. Rusty old blue clashing with lines of red. A mirage of concealed colors, hidden underneath soft hues no one should be fooled of. It was eerie. Very calm, though also very unlike the living (?) world.

_Tug_.

There was a pull. A silent gesture to move forward. Where? He hadn't had a single clue, the colours were starting to seep through invisible cracks too hard for him to see. As if it was losing it's light, the colours soaked the edge of the big picture, then everything turns white again.

  
Surprisingly, a new glow made it's way in his line of sight.  
It was vibrant. Very very _bright_ , it nearly blinds him.

  
He squints, and he could make out...green?

  
Green. And red. _Crimson_.

.

Then everything was silent, except his breaths that came rushed and undone.

The colors were less distinct. Everything molded exactly the same. Bright, orange, hints of red corrupting them. The colour looks and feels warm, welcoming was the word he was looking for, though upon closer contact it had left nothing but painful burns.

  
He feels his throat again, no more dark hints of black or purple smearing them.   
Green was what greeted his eyes instead. His breaths continuing it's rushed parlor. His body felt detached, pieces starting to form in his mind as he catches sight of the book the man was so casually mentioning a second before his brutal death. It came back, and blue was already climbing up his cheeks making his body crumble and his heart twist. 

A hand reaches out, and it burns, even more so than the hot hot lava. Lingering, letting the colour yellow manifest brighter to the point where it hurt to look at. It shines golden. And it was so bright, it cut through his vision and made his joints stuck together stiffly. Even under those plain white surface, the yellow was still burning holes through his mind. Everything was sickly vibrant then. Everything about this man is vibrant.

  
He hates it, and his blue turns grey.   
The man shifts and everything was coated with red once more. His stare, his movements, his toothy smirk.   
It clashed with his dulled blue, flourishing it into purple. Then the purple sits there for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, his only seemed to get darker, while the man's gaze grew unaffected, turning it into a flashy molten gold. 

The next flashes of unwelcomed colours comes sooner, cruel even, unprompted. 

  
_Thud_.

  
He was met with white.  
Brown came, a downwards spiral to only red and dark blue.

He was pulled back before anything could change, the colours lining on his neck like a string slowly growing it's fierce grip.

It looked very similar to green.

  
Then, he sees pitch black again.   
Not even a second too long, and he was opening his eyes. Gasping for air, everything hurts, and all he could see is red. Red _crimson_ onto the walls, the bars, his own hands and face. But he pushed back the high levels panic for it only mixed with the man's joyful sneer.

  
He turns away shakily, purple shining through him. He wanted the book to burn, the pain that came with it everytime he died is a form of punishment he never wants to encounter repeatedly.

  
So he does exactly what he was capable of. He chucks it out the clearing when the security breach worsens one fortunate time.

  
The man saw and once again all he could see and even feel is coated in crimson.

_Snap_.

Purple was blinding him at this point. The white around him failing to calm him like all those times in the past.   
The same thing would repeat itself.   
Feel purple, see crimson, admire brown, then snap back to the poisonous green that could fool anyone with it's layers and layers of nauseatingly blinding yellow.

  
For a while, those are the only things he could experience.

A misplace of items. Namely a potato.

  
 _Smack_.

Head split in two, colours stretching through his mind forcefully in order to adjust. It hurt. And the longer this goes on, the more dull the colors have become. Even the brown, it was almost completely dark red now. 

  
He doesn't know why it had gotten to this point, but his signature color was no longer blue.   
Grey, was what it was.   
Frankly, he couldn't care less. Not that he could feel it anymore.

  
Like usual, he was pulled out harshly. Accompanying his laboring breaths was sweet sweet red. Not crimson, no. Just, soft red.   
_Sweet_. Everything about it was sweet. Especially the tight hug that came with it. Nothing was stiff, nothing was wrong apart from his aching body, racing heart, and mindless headspace.  
The words he whispered was pink. He hadn't bothered to listen to it. Listening only to it's soft lilt, immediatly recognizing the soft color.   
Sweet and soft on the edges. Blaring neon, not delicate in any way, but sharp. 

  
It does nothing to his wilting, dying blue, but he soaks it up anyway. Greedily taking it in as the air between them shifted into a new color.

  
Magenta.

The realization sinks in, and he let's himself bask in it. Anything was better than crimson and bright green, so he takes it.

  
Another day passed, only by then did he realize the sweetness from before as saccharine 

And when he shield himself away, he finds the colour copper spluttering in their magenta.

  
 _Crack_.

By then, the cycle continued viciously. Everything stayed the same, and he never did remember what 'normal' colors look like.

They were always either a tad too bright, or too dull.   
He doesn't remember light blue, he doesn't remember soft pink or calm red, he doesn't remember warm orange either.

  
It almost made him blind, as everything turns grey from time to time. Partially, and on certain days they were completely blanketed with the lifeless color that reminds him of nothing all the same.

The color drains on him too, he wonders where the man gets his artificial colors from.

_Thud. Smack. Crack._

  
Crimson.   
Crimson.  
Crimson.  
White?

Brown? ~~_Please be brown._~~

  
_Green, green, green, green-_

  
**_Lime_** -

  
Grey.

  
_Smack. Bang. Snap. Thud._

  
Black.

_Black, dull pink-_

_Radiant orchid._

  
~~_He doesn't know how he though of that, but it reminds of him of that immediatly as the color consumes him in his weakened desperate haze._ ~~

  
_Twist. Slap. Clang._

_Black-_

  
_Red-_

  
_Copper-_

_M-maroon?_

  
_~~**Make it stop, please** ~~ _

_Clang. Smash. Slam._

**~~_Please, make it stop._ ~~ **

  
_The colours are all mixing, he doesn't understand, he doesn't want to look at them, ~~it really hurts to,~~_

_Purple purple purple_

  
_~~**Stop,** ~~ _

  
_Purple purple_

  
_**~~Please~~ ** _

_Purple purple_

_He wants to stop, **feeling** , all of this_

~~**_Stop_ ** ~~

_Lavender_.

  
Air. _Air_.  
 _Where is it?!_

  
The strings pulled at his throat fiercely, glowing sickly green. It sometimes shifts to red, and often times it just presses through his skin and pulls him too hard he didn't get a chance to even see.

  
This time though, his purple was met with the same color. A different shade though, a different tone.

  
His eyes hurt, unable to contain the strain as his eyes watered just from an intake of breath he had to take. 

Everything was overwhelming him, and he wanted to stop. 

He needs for it to stop.

  
Green was soon taking over them both.   
Hus color never dulled, instead they seemingly glowed. Sharp and hard, sickly and stale, but vibrantly strong.

  
It truly is, life and death.

  
Who was he to fight such forces when his color had faded into nothing but washed out gray.

His fingers were freezing, the place where they stayed were only stained crimson. By his own crimson, and it makes him sick that he could still see them.

He wants to gouge out his eyes till he can't even see the crimson copper.

  
All sense of hope is lost, and when the man speaks of sky blue, turning on his heels to demand of it with fierce red, he didn't think once to defy him.

  
Instead he offers the ash gray towards the smirking man.

An inkling of grayish blue seeping through them that made the glint in the man's eyes shine brighter.

  
They stayed in silence while a certain color reigns over them from where the green man stood with a smirk firmly implanted on place.

  
It was a warm color.

  
His colors were drained, having been giving it to the man. 

He has nothing, yet the color enveloping him in a tight hug made it impossibly hard to ignore it's presence.

  
It was orange.

The orange burns.

**Author's Note:**

> Ey, y'all need my color grid of emotions?
> 
> Or can y'all figure it out on yourselves? ;]


End file.
